Night fell over the abandoned warehouse district.
Cold wind swept through the empty streets,
carrying dust, metal, and silence.
Three black SUVs rolled to a stop without headlights,
their engines humming low.
Sally stepped out first—
coat billowing behind her,
face tight, focused.
Behind her came Lina's brother,
trembling but determined.
Lina remained hidden in the backseat,
watching through the tinted glass with wide, terrified eyes.
The security teams fanned out silently.
Earpieces crackled.
"Alpha Team in position."
"Bravo Team ready."
"Delta Team approaching rear entrance."
Sally exhaled slowly.
"This is it," she whispered.
She nodded once.
"Move."
The warehouse was cold.
Too cold.
Jack sat tied to the metal chair,
head hanging forward,
bruises forming dark patterns on his skin.
His breathing was shallow.
Barely there.
Marcus Hale stood several feet away,
smirking as he checked his watch.
But Jack didn't see him anymore.
He didn't see the walls.
Or the ropes.
Or the danger.
He saw only memories.
Flashes.
A boy crying in a schoolyard.
A punch thrown too hard.
A shove that left bruises.
Fear he caused.
Pain he ignored.
"Stop—please—!"
A small voice in the past.
A voice he crushed without thought.
Jack's eyes drifted to the floor, unfocused.
A tear—not from pain but something deeper—
slipped silently down his cheek.
He whispered to himself:
"…This is what I deserve."
His fingers twitched weakly but didn't struggle.
He didn't pull against the ropes.
Didn't fight.
Didn't try to escape.
For the first time in his life…
Jack Blackwell
didn't resist.
He felt empty.
Hollow.
Broken in a way fists couldn't fix.
He remembered the boy in the hallway, screaming at his parents:
"If you never wanted me… why did you have me?"
Jack clenched his eyes.
He finally understood.
He whispered—
"…I'm sorry."
Not to Marcus.
Not to the kidnappers.
But to the boy he hurt.
The friend he never had.
The person he broke.
He lifted his head slightly, dazed, resolved.
"If this is the price," he murmured,
"…then fine."
He wouldn't fight it.
He wouldn't ask to be saved.
He would take the pain.
Take the punishment.
Take everything.
Because for once—
he believed he deserved every second.
"Bravo Team, go!"
Gunmetal shadows moved through the alleys,
silent as ghosts.
"Delta, breach from the back on my signal."
"Copy."
Sally held up the suitcase of fake money.
Her jaw was steel.
"Alpha Team, with me.
We're going straight through the front."
The boy hesitated.
"S-Sally… what if we're too late?"
Sally didn't look at him—
but her voice softened.
"We won't be."
She turned.
"Let's bring him home."
Marcus approached him again,
fingers running along a metal pipe.
"You know," Marcus smirked,
"your father ruined me.
But hurting you?
That's the real satisfaction."
Jack didn't react.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't even blink.
Marcus frowned.
"No fighting left in you?"
Jack swallowed.
"…No."
Marcus chuckled cruelly.
"Giving up already?"
Jack's voice was barely a whisper.
"…This is what I owe."
Marcus paused.
"What did you say?"
Jack closed his eyes.
"For everything I did," he whispered,
"…this is the price."
For once, Marcus didn't understand.
But it didn't matter.
He raised the pipe—
And outside,
Sally whispered into her earpiece:
"Now."